


The Faceless One

by Shizukana2203



Series: Welcome to Watchtower High [2]
Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mentions of domestic child abuse, Mentions of homelessness, Why do I love torturing these characters so much?, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11071965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shizukana2203/pseuds/Shizukana2203
Summary: The life of Vic Sage, plotted into its most important parts.





	The Faceless One

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: Fixed a minor spelling error, added a section now that Q's backstory has been finalized.
> 
>  
> 
> Hello reader! If you like angst and the Question, this is definitely for you.
> 
> In regards to the AU as a whole, I do have a sort of plot written for it, but until I can finish plotting and start writing, these short stories are what you're going to get. I take requests, so if you want to see a specific scenario or moment, go ask on the AU's [tumblr](welcome-to-watchtower-high.tumblr.com).

He is two days old. He is alone.

His pale featureless face scares all who approached him. Metas and humans alike give the baby in the basket a wide berth. None have opened the envelope that lies on his chest. Not even the homeless people, who would usually have killed or taken in the baby by now, have dared try and get close to him. He doesn't cry. He doesn't know how. All he knows is the pain of hunger and the ache of a emotion he can't name but can feel keenly.

(Years later he would look back and realise it was loneliness.)

\---

He is four years old. He is bleeding from several cuts on his arms, chest and faceless face.

The nuns that had reluctantly taken him in have finished their daily beating, leaving the quiet child to patch himself up. The gnawing pain in his stomach that never faded is especially bad now. They usually feed him every three days. It has been almost a week now. He can't write, he can barely read, but he knows a lot of things. He knows that the other strange kids never ran away, but were stolen. He knows that those kids will never return. He knows that _they_ would come for him soon enough. If he was't so young they would have taken him already. From though his door he hears a voice, speaking of things he doesn't fully understand but knows are dangerous. A name finally comes for the people who go bump in the night - _CADMUS_.

(When _they_ finally took him, he wondered if it was Fate's will that he was to suffer. He never found an answer to that question.)

\---

He is ten years old. He is on the run.

Sticks and rocks poke into the soles of his feet, leaving him with tiny cuts that sting but he doesn't slow, doesn't stop, until he knows he's far away from _them_. Even then he finds the highest tree he can see and climbs up until the branches begin to crack under his weight. Only then does he allow himself to begin dressing his wounds. He shivers in the cool night air. His threadbare clothing is nowhere near enough to cover him. He doesn't have much of a choice in the matter. A fork in a thick branch provides him with a small nook in which to rest his head. On impulse, he takes some smaller, leafier branches, weaving them together until he has a makeshift blanket. It isn't much, but it helps.

(Unbeknownst to him now, knowing how to live like this would end up saving his life.)

\---

He is thirteen years old. He is screaming.

His body jitters and seizes as electricity arcs through him. His lungs burn as water is poured over his featureless face, cutting off any oxygen he could have gotten through the heavy cloth. He writhes as nightmarish visions of pain and failure assault his sleeping mind. He curls inward as blow after blow lands, breaking bones and carving flesh. His chest and face roar in pain as the scalpel cuts through his tissue like a hot knife through butter. What he doesn't do, however, is speak. Scream, certainly. Groan, definitely. But never speak. The gnawing hunger, his constant companion, reminds him of the benefits he would receive if he would just talk. But he stays strong. He has to, so other kids like him didn't have to.

(He was never certain why his escape was so easy. Originally, he thought it sheer luck. He isn't so certain anymore.)

\---

He is sixteen years old. He is watching his new brother work from behind a door.

Bruce had found him in the woods almost six months ago. He had never explained why he was there, nor why he was covered in scars and injuries. That didn't stop the billionare orphan carrying him back to his mansion and helping his butler patch the faceless boy up. Back then he didn't know the meaning of the word trust. Now he thinks, as he studies the look of intense concentration on his brother's face as he solders and welds and tests and refines, he may just be learning.

(And when he is presented with a watch that projects a hologram of a scarless boy with black-not-orange-hair and maybe even a face, he learns the meaning of the words gratitude and happiness too.)

\---

He is seventeen. He is watching from the shadows as a green skinned teen has the shit beaten out of them.

His fists clench with his desire to jump in, to knock those bastards out and help the green kid get patched up, but he forces himself to keep still. Forces himself to watch, silently promising to help get revenge. He has taken all the evidence to the principal and she has Judged. Now he'll lead the green teen down to the lion's mouth, all because he couldn't being himself to physically step in. The green telepath has a look in their eyes that the featureless teen recognises well, having used those same emotions to save himself from unsavory people on the streets. In the roar of his mind, he makes another promise.

(CADMUS won't destroy this one. Not if The Question has anything to say about it.)


End file.
